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Etwald said nothing. With his eyes fixed upon the devil-stick, he meditated deeply. The barrister, whose belief was that Etwald knew more about the wand than he chose to say, watched him closely. He noticed that the doctor eyed the stick, then, after a pause, let his gaze wander to the face of Maurice. Another pause, and he was looking at David, who received the fire of this strange man's eyes without blanching. "At the trial?" "I have not set eyes on it since that night you showed it to me," declared Etwald, coolly. "You refused to sell it to me, so of course I gave up all idea of possessing it. All the same," finished he, politely, "I am sorry that it is lost.".
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"But what—" began Patricia again. "No," said Arkel again, "no one was concealed in the room." "Oh, it's not, it's not that much," I fairly gasped and I couldn't help the tears coming into my eyes. I have never said much about it, but nobody knows how it hurts me to be as—large as I am. Just writing it down in a book mortifies me dreadfully. It's been coming on worse and worse every year since I married. Poor Mr. Carter had a very good appetite, and I don't know why I should have felt that I had to eat so much every day to keep him company; I wasn't always so considerate about him. Then he didn't want me to go for long walks with the dogs any more, because married women oughtn't to, or ride horseback either—no amusement left but himself; and—and—I just couldn't help the tears coming and dripping as I thought about it all and that awful waist measure in inches. But as to my waist measure, I positively refuse to write that down, even if I have half promised Dr. John a dozen times over to do it, while I only really left him to suppose I would. It is bad enough to know that your belt has to be reduced to twenty-three inches without putting down how much it measures now in figures to insult yourself with. No, I intend to have this for my happy spring..
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